


Family Traditions

by twitch



Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/twitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A New Years Day tradition between friends becomes more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tour_treasure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tour_treasure/gifts).



> As requested by Yuletide participant tour_treasure Somehow an extra person snuck into this little tale which hopefully will not disappoint.

The worst of the storm had passed. 

It might've been creaking bones but it was weakened branches bending or already broken off from their trees, ice and snow the weight they could no longer stand. The groaning had stopped several hours ago making him decide it was safe to emerge from the house. His own feet crunching at the snow and his satisfied puffs of air, hot and hanging before his face, was the only sound he needed. 

This wasn't the first time.

Lewis had it all planned out, stopping him from grabbing another drink while they were partying at The Horseshoe. It was New Year's Eve and a gesture he was in the process of laughing off while motioning for the server once again. One beer wasn't enough to celebrate bringing in the new year, this was a festivity that was best rung in giddy, shouting, jumping, then dancing with the closest pretty girl he could snag - failing that, Lewis would work too. All of that meant that he'd be drunk and hungover whenever he dragged himself out of bed the next day - the next year.

"No," Lewis had drawled out, or at least he would've labeled it as such had Lewis been drinking. The last thing he remembered seeing him drinking was a pop of all things, a plain old Coke. The word was drawn out with a toothy smile, coaxing him to hesitate from trying another server. "I've got plans for you tomorrow, plans that need you to be awake before nine."

To say he was intrigued was an understatement. He allowed Lewis to buy him a Coke before steering him to the front of the then small crowd. It didn't take long until he was jigging to the best of his abilities, and admittedly in that field Lewis did have him beat, until he forgot all about those words. 

His head had been ringing the next morning, as if he was still standing at the front of the venue, bass and drums thumping and guitars dueling, that he missed the ringing of the doorbell and the knocking. He didn't miss the holler from his mum, near shrieking that nine o'clock was no time to wake up on a holiday. 

Recalling Lewis' proclamation sprung him out of bed before his mum beat him to the door to beat Lewis for the rude awakening. 

When he pulled the door open Lewis was standing on the front step, the thick blanket of snow behind him, the culmination of several days worth from the week before, a good indication of why he wore toque, mitts and carried a toboggan underarm. That didn't stop him from doing a once over, observing bare feet and toes that flinched as snow threatened to carry in on the light breeze. "You have five minutes to get dressed."

"You woke up my family to take me out sledding?" Spike asked incredulously, already wondering how long he'd have before Lewis raced him to his bedroom and if he'd have time to barricade the door. Even that wouldn't prevent him from breaking in, what with their SRU training.

Setting the contraption on the ground, Lewis knocked the snow off his boots, joining him inside the house and pushing him towards the basement doors. "If you aren't up in five minutes I will come down after you." And that he did, even wearing his boots into his room. He would later find the same wet spots when he returned, all those eight hours later. He wound up grinning rather than sputtering, full of hot chocolate and hot food. 

The next year he chose the venue, another band with more dancing. Lewis bested him again but assured him that he would beat him like he did the last year. Technically the same year, but considering that it would be the next day...

There was no shrieking mother. He was fully dressed, his own mitts and toque snug and warm as he waited on the step. There was no chance he'd risk waking his mum up by even letting Lewis knock on the door. He spotted Lewis walking up the street, whistling Auld Lang Syne if he heard correctly. The rendition was cut short once he threw a snowball at his friend. Lewis chased him to the snow hill where all was forgiven when he realised he was the man with the toboggan. 

Early December Ed invited him out to the team one's New Years Eve tradition, a night out at the Blue Goose. Catching Lewis in the locker room before his shift started he asked him if they had already made plans that he didn't know about. He hadn't heard any mention of any concerts but it could've been he had missed that detail while reading over spec sheets for the newest gadgetry he was testing for field work. 

"If you can't make it out for New Years Eve, that won't be a problem," Lewis reassured him, closing his locker and leaning on it to watch him properly. There was a spark of humour in his eyes, one that had him half-smiling even if Lewis remained straight-faced. "Just don't be hungover for the first or you will be in trouble. I don't want to steal your bragging rights from you." 

He was ready for the ribbing, which he did get from Jules and Ed. Wordy watched, waiting for elaboration while further up the table Greg talked with the other two men from their team. 

"Come on, drink up! Or are you afraid we're going to drink you under the table?" Ed's hand was friendly on his shoulder, jostling him but also squeezing in time to Wordy's silent laughing. 

"I think he's got plans for tomorrow," Wordy interjected. 

That took Jules out from her initial comment, the words dying on her lips before smiling. "Got a hot date?"

Thinking of hot chocolate and the food that would be waiting for him later Spike nodded decisively, drinking his coke to keep laughter at bay until he could present them all with a calm expression. "And I know you're all jealous and dying to know more - but! I am a gentlemen. I don't reveal all of my liaisons - even to my closest friends."

"He's probably taking a niece out while her parents deal with their hangovers," Ed commented, grinning while Jules shook her head. 

But there were no kids on the tobogganing hill, or at least no little kids. It was two men, kids at heart, racing down the hill one after or another, or together, laughing and hollering into the afternoon. Once thoroughly wet and cold - at least until they got to Lewis' apartment, where back in their training days he had left a sweatshirt behind, and that did beg the question, that day long ago, did he leave the apartment cold or worse, shirtless? - he would dress into dry clothes while Lewis made a late lunch. 

It took two nerve-wrangling months, filled with numerous applications and trial periods for candidates, but Spike waited as nervously if not more than Lewis when an opening was available to get into team one. Spike reassured Lewis he was a shoe in but Lewis was more sensible if not fully pessimistic. At last Greg took him aside privately to tell him that it was down to Lewis and another man but he was sworn to secrecy until anything was made official. 

The day that Lewis was accepted there had been a celebration at a bar. All of them several beers deep into the night Spike still had the ability to loop his arm around Lewis' shoulders to whisper so that no one else would hear. "Do - do you think I should ask if anyone else likes tobogganing?"

It was their tradition, one that they enjoyed for two years, and one that he was already thinking about in the coming months. There were family traditions that the Scarlatti family held true to, no one outside of their kin privy to but already Spike could see that the other members of Team One were taking in Lewis like one of their own. He was Michelangelo Scarlatti, lovingly referred to as Spike Team One. To anyone else Lewis was Lewis Young but to them he was Lewis Team One as well.

Lewis cocked his head to the suggestion, eyes skimming over the men and woman of the table. "Even if they don't like tobogganing I know they like their drink and food."

That year he and Lewis met up with Jules at their hill. 

Jules broke his winning streak by achieving the status of greatest distance sledder. 

Wordy headed up lunch at his house. Feeding a family of three girls meant that he learned some of the finer skills of the kitchen but no one could beat Lewis' hot chocolate recipe. 

Sam was settled in at the table, seated between him and Jules, Ed sitting across from him, when he was faced with a question that clearly boggled the newest addition. "Do you know what a toboggan is?" Ed asked. 

It was a simple question but not knowing what the question had to do with New Years Eve drinking Sam twisted his lips together before turning indignant. "Of course I do!"

"Do you like tobogganing?" Jules asked. 

He nodded slowly. "As an eight year old I did."

"Then I advise you don't take any more - ahhh - beer, after you finish this one," Spike advised, tapping on the glass that had a quarter of its contents left to be consumed.

On a hunch he led Jules and Lewis to Sam's apartment the following day. Lewis stayed outside the building with the toboggan, the element of surprise while he went up with Jules. The building was still, Sam's apartment similarly quiet. The fact that Sam buzzed them through the doors should've been an indicator that something was about to happen but when Sam greeted them at the door he was bleary eyed and bed ruffled, how he must've looked like to Lewis those years ago. 

"Get ready to have some fun!" Spike back-stepped him into the living room, barely giving a good look to the abode he never been into. "Fun involving warm clothes!"

Once the confusion wore off, and as the sun brightened the grey morning into something of a brighter afternoon, Sam was having fun with all of them. That they didn't think of mentioning that dry clothes would be an asset at the lunch was just a bit of childish joking, something that Sam swore he'd be prepared for the following year. 

His smile faltered for a second but he kept walking, puffs lighting around his face and toboggan not nearly as awkward as he thought it would be, carried under his arm. 

He was the last one to arrive at the hill, Jules and Sam waiting at the top. 

Running up the hill, stumbling once through a deeper recess of snow, he came up alongside Sam. He wanted to say something but all he could do was look down the familiar slope, hoping that he would see someone else, finishing the first run or running up in apology for being late. There was no one else, only the three of them. 

"Ready?" The cold must've been affecting Jules too, her throat and the word tight. 

"You've got the first run," Sam said, patting him on the shoulder.

He set the toboggan down, sitting on it and pulling himself to the edge with his heels in the snow. He had no reason to be queasy but his stomach fluttered in time with his eyelids, little beads of moisture clinging to his cheeks. 

A moan started to swell up in his chest, the weight in his gut pressing painfully as the curl of the wood started to dip down. The gully of wind that sucked him down, blustering up along both sides of him seemed to wash away the feeling, curling his mouth into a smile. If anything a weight seemed to push against him from behind, warm solid bands going around his middle, helping to careen the toboggan down the hill faster and further. 

It wasn't letting go, it was holding on, to traditions, friends and family.


End file.
